The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth
by JMHaughey
Summary: A birthday fic for sunsetdreamer!


A/N: Happy Birthday, Ren! I hope your day is filled with tea and cupcakes. I know usually #birthdayfic comes with a prompt but I consulted your BrainTwin instead. I hope you enjoy this. You make my life more colorful for being in it! Love you!

Disclaimer: Not even for a minute. William Shakespeare is to thank for the title.

* * *

**"A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid any more." **

John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

* * *

Brennan decided to end her day earlier than her colleagues; she was not into socializing. She just needed to be alone. As she reached her tent, she ducked through the door and let out an exasperated sigh. Her cot was looking so comfortable. She grabbed the wide-brimmed hat off her head and threw it on the chair next to her. She sighed, again. It had been hot and humid, usually the temperature of southeast Asia didn't affect her, but this time was different.

She missed him (more than she thought she would). She wanted to talk to him about anything, really - food, drinks, a case, a story, a memory, or Parker – the conversations that happened just between them. She laid on the cot, calculating how many days were left in Maluku – 362 days. She'd travelled to many places for a vacation though never for this extended time frame. She chose to come here because it was her life, she poured her mind and expertise into this but right now it was the furthest thing she was thinking about.

* * *

Time; the premise seemed be a relatively fundamental concept to grasp. It had the ability to weave the past (however much we would like protest), the present and of course, the future. It measured the durations of the events, the intervals between them and most importantly the rate of changes occurring in them. As much as one wants to remain objective, subjectivity was often brought up. Can time be felt?

And in relation to space, are the two related? Or are they two concepts that have been grouped together for the purpose of research and philosophical reason? Will we ever know? Space was boundless, it is where objects and events occur with relative direction.

She realized when she chose to lead this project she was giving herself space from Booth. Space to fully grasp the weight of his words, _I want to give this a shot_. The pain that was rooted in her core was slowly engulfing her; the fear, the anxiety, the emptiness of never being good enough. Brennan chose not openly share this because it was her burden to bear. She had never allowed herself the opportunity to fully give herself to another human whether it be through love, sexual relations, or friendships.

This precipitated memories of her parents and Russ. She remembered the day they left, like no time had passed. Deep in the recesses of Brennan's brain, she recited to the open air what she wearing, described the last looks on her parents' faces, the sound of car that drove away, the smell of the outdoors, and the weather. She vividly recalled Russ leaving. She was fifteen and alone. Was she really that unlovable? Why was she excluded from being part of a family? What did she do? Would it ever come back?

As time progressed, brick by brick Brennan started to build walls around her; saving herself from unwanted emotions. She was her only hope, she had to rise above all situations she was cast in - whether it be foster care abuse, studying so she could attend the best colleges, abandonment, or genuine misunderstanding of the world around her.

Booth was her constant. Everyone else, variables. Even though he left her once – pretending to be dead, he came back. He was in a coma, he still came back. She was sure of him. Constants were not supposed to deviate but he did (so she thought). She needed him to be a constant again. Brennan relied on a logical truism: the fact of our existence as intelligent beings who can measure physical constants requires those constants to be such that beings like us can exist. Was that possible? He mentioned a few times things had to change. She staunchly refuted his bold assertion. Maybe this space was exactly what she needed – a re-evaluation not just of herself but of Booth and their relationship.

For five years, they spent most days and some nights together. They opened and rehashed old wounds because they each knew that strengthened their bond.

* * *

Brennan was seated at the makeshift camp office in Maluku. She figured if she catapulted herself into reviewing and signing off the research and notes in the reports that began to pile on her desk, she would be able to detach from thinking of what was or was not happening to her partner in Afghanistan. When Brennan first settled in, she was more diligent about reading and reporting the findings she and her colleagues discovered.

Her head began to tilt forward; unaware she had fallen asleep, Brennan rubbed her eyes quickly and hoped no one saw her doze off if they walked by the office. The report she fell asleep reviewing was written quite satisfactory (she assumed it should since everyone here was highly vetted). For a brief moment, she thought of Angela – always barging into her office whether if be for 'girl talk', case matters or to cheer her up – she thought of the last time she saw her. The airport, huggin her and leaving her with a sentence Brennan couldn't fully grasp then. _I hope you find what it means to be human. _As Brennan thought about this, she realized that in typical Angela fashion it was subtext. Booth would be proud she figured it out.

As she sat in front of the computer, the inexplicable urge to email Booth or to call him (though not an emergency) had taken over. Booth would call it a gut feeling, Brennan knew it was something else, something that was slowly overtaking her, something that was slipping away because she let it. _The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable. _It had been 210 days since good-bye. 210 days since she held his hand. 210 days since she finished his sentence to meet at the coffee cart. 210 days since she glanced over shoulder, smiled at him and let him go. 210 days of space. 210 days of time passing separately.

She attempted to get back to the reports, but for some reason she couldn't do it. Brennan thought of the ridiculous things said to her by a psychic, _The world scares you – so you wrap it up in bonds of reason, education, and proof. All riddles are solvable to you except one. The riddle you can't solve is how can somebody love you. _Love, a word she seldom used or heard directed towards her. She never subjected herself to relationship with the implications of societal norms. Her impervious nature is what kept focused on anthropology and what ultimately led her to being in a tent in the Indonesian jungle. Even during this temporary moment of fleeting emotion, Brennan didn't have the gumption to follow her heart and see it through, maybe that was a flaw or maybe it was logical.

She sat back in her desk chair. Brennan wanted to step of the shadows out of her solitary self but without giving up her beliefs, ideals and convictions. She would never ask Booth to give up anything nor would she be expected to. She had a few more months to contemplate and weigh these decisions before presenting them to Booth. She was going to need it. With that, she started back on those pesky reports.

* * *

Brennan's plane was somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, she attempted to read an in-flight magazine but she couldn't concentrate. She was trying to construct a version a statement – more like a confession of the feelings she had grasped over the past seven months – more like the last five years. She wondered how he was faring in Afghanistan, she would know soon enough.

When she tearfully admitted to Booth she didn't have his kind of open heart, she wanted a chance to fully explain her reason for turning him down. Booth didn't allow her to produce her reason – Brennan only said she couldn't change. She realized something, every time she adapted her behavior it was mainly because Booth had proven it prudent to her. It didn't have to be something eye-opening, it could have been something as tiny, when holding a human remains: wear gloves. He had manifested in a steady piece of her heart. She had unknowingly come to rely on him for a great many things. This confession within herself frightened her. Brennan was used to being alone; it comforted her, it reassured her, it strenghtened her. She knew she never really alone. He proved that to her over time. _The answer to the question you are afraid to say out loud is – yes, he knows the truth of you, __yet he is dazzled by that truth._

* * *

Brennan laid in her bed – unable to sleep. She had over-identified with victim, Dr. Lauren Eames. It was a predicament in which Brennan had not found herself in before. She couldn't stop thinking about the doctor; a woman who never experienced love because she was too busy with her work. A woman who nobody seemed to miss or look for. In contrast, Brennan was shown and told, not just throughout this case but it had been demonstrated time and time again through the actions of her colleagues at the Jeffersonian and by Booth.

When she uttered the words, _I got the signal, _she watched him – she had heard a myth that you can see truth and intention in someone eyes but it was no longer a myth because Brennan saw it in Booth's eyes. He wouldn't allow himself respond. Brennan emotions overtook her usual logical detached responses – she knew she could readjust because he did. When she came to the regrettable decision of rejecting Booth, she turned his world upside down. Again.

When Booth dropped her off at her apartment, she creaked a goodbye and a thank you. She didn't look back, she needed space. She fumbled with keys, she took a deep breath and started over again. She was in. She draped her damp trenchcoat over the first chair she found. She couldn't contain the tears formed in her ducts. Brennan was alone, she released them without hesitation. She marched over to the counter, looked up at the cabinets to retrieve a drinking glass. She didn't even want that, the thought of tequila burning her throat made her tears come faster.

She had just given herself up. Fully exposed with nowhere to run or hide. How could it have gone wrong? She was beginning to think she really was unlovable – it was another case of not being enough. Even though sentiments expressed previously refuted it.

The knock on her door startled her yet drew her out of her lull. She was in no mood for company but she opened the door anyway. The universe was meddling and she laughed.

Booth exhibited the same crestfallen look as his partner. Brennan opened her mouth to speak but words, usually not a problem for her, had failed her when she needed them the most. His hand met her face with a gentle touch, knowing that he was the impetus for the tears, he slowly wiped them away from her face. She stared into his bloodshot eyes. Brennan realized in that uninhibited moment, she never actually looked deeply into Booth's eyes before. Perhaps, all the times before she never really knew what she was searching for. Until now.

Booth's other hand tugged at her waist bringing her closer to him. They were still silent, they'd slung so many words back and forth throughout their time together that they weren't needed. Brennan's hand tugged at Booth's semi-dry shirt buttons. Booth and Brennan's lips met echoing feelings, sentiments and words not used during the first time they ever shared a kiss.

Booth kept a tight arm around his partner and led her to nearest surface. He noticed the empty glass on the kitchen counter as he pushed it away and lifted Brennan up.

She reached for his belt to pull him closer. Still silent, only stopping to smile between their tongue-lashed kisses. Booth managed to remove her shirt and bra while she was watched his pants fall to the ground. His fingers tiptoed around her underwear as he delicately played with her clitoris which instantly moistened as Brennan shimmied her legs around Booth's hips.

Booth's thumb grazed the inner rim of her underwear, indicating he wanted it off. Her eyes followed him as it went down her leg onto the floor. As he slid himself into Brennan, she leaned back on the counter as Booth's hands found their way to her hardened nipples. He bent down and kissed her lips. He slowed down his thrusts forward as they both moaned. Ever so slightly, Brennan elevated herself off the counter, Booth tried to readjust quickly but as he tried to enter her again, she pulled back yet hovered over Booth's hard penis. As she slid down Booth's shaft, they came together.

Booth removed himself from Brennan but didn't leave her proximity. Her legs were still wrapped around him. He wasn't going anywhere. Neither was she. He kissed her again then Brennan whispered in Booth's ear.

For the first time, she finally understood was it was to lose herself (metaphorically) in another person. She wanted to believe that love was transcendent and eternal. And when she looked at Booth, she knew it could be.


End file.
